Christine Stoddard

Christine Stoddard

Bio

Originally from Virginia, Christine Stoddard is a Salvadoran-Scottish-American writer and artist. She also is the founding editor of Quail Bell Magazine, a place for real and unreal stories from around the world. Her art and stories have appeared in Cosmopolitan, Bustle,The Huffington Post, Vivala, The Feminist Wire, the New York Transit Museum, Philly Fringe Fest, and beyond. She also is the author of Hispanic and Latino Heritage in Virginia (The History Press, 2016). In 2014, Folio Magazine named Christine one of the media industry's top visionaries in their 20s.

Christine Stoddard Articles

These days, I shave most of my body hair by choice. On the days (or weeks) that I don't, that decision is just as much my choice. Image: Thinkstock.

Why I Was Late To The Shaving Game

I tapped the razor on the side of the sink and inspected my smooth legs for any missed spots. Then I rinsed the blade, washed my hands, and put on my outfit: a long-sleeved black top, a knee-length denim skirt, tall black boots, and a silver dragon necklace for good measure.

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I want to see the place that shaped my mother and her earliest memories because she shaped me and my earliest memories.

When Your Mother's Land Isn't Your  Motherland

Immigrants are pushed out of their home countries due to social, political, or economic forces beyond their control — poverty, genocide, wartime.... I doubt many Salvadorans of my mother's generation fled El Salvador to go “find themselves.”

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What we cannot afford to do is spread more hate, especially among our own people.

I Won’t Resent The Latinx Folks Who Voted For Trump

In the weeks since Election Day, I’ve come to realize that while I’m entitled to my feelings, resenting the Latinx folks who voted for Trump is not a productive use of my time.

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"Our wedding took place one May morning, outside of a historic house that overlooks the river running through our college town." Image: Pixabay, Veton Ethemi

I Am An Artist Who Married Young, And I Feel Like The Only One

In art school, conversations about the merits of polyamory thrived, but hearing anyone express a genuine desire to get married almost never happened. It was almost taboo. The implication was, how could you want something so traditional? So suburban and unimaginative?

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We can proud of our ancestors without claiming to be them. Image: Isaias Silva Pinto/Pixabay.

I Have Indigenous Blood — But I'm Not Indigenous

Indigenous people throughout the world already face so many challenges; they don’t need non-Indigenous people appropriating their cultures and championing family lore as fact. The genocide of Indigenous people is an ongoing travesty throughout the world

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After wearing glasses since fourth grade and contacts since high school, I was eager to see the world unassisted. Image: Liam Welch/Unsplash.

Life After LASIK: Seeing The World On My Own Terms

I was shivering and sweating. What if the procedure didn't work? What if I had serious complications? What if I had to come back?

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Photo: courtesy of the author.

How Drag Queens Like Lady Bunny Inspire A Straight Biracial Woman Like Me

Drag queens, like Lady Bunny, teach outsiders to embrace ourselves and to embrace others. That means doing more than demonstrating tolerance.

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If I could go back and tell that little girl to run, I would. I would tell her to fly. I would tell her that being fat doesn't define her. It doesn't make her any less. Image: Thinkstock.

Once The "Fat Kid," Always The "Fat Kid."

Looking back at childhood photos now is bittersweet. In the moment the camera caught, I'm always smiling, but I wasn't always a happy child. I was fat-shamed almost daily.

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All illustrations by Kristen Rebelo

My Encounter with a 'Non-Racist' in Fear of a Black Neighborhood

Black—the whispered word in educated, politically correct, upper middle class society.

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By the end of the first haunted house rehearsal, I knew the job would truly test my abilities to carry my body and voice well.

 Working At A Haunted House Was Better Than Therapy 

Before I became a haunted house performer, I thought having my face touched was one of the creepiest things imaginable. But it wasn't the eerie set music or the beheaded baby dolls that changed my definition of scary. It was what went on in the green room.

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